Stilicho Clara was a man of routine.

He woke before the sun and walked bare chested and barefoot from his bed to his flagstone courtyard where he knelt by a small babbling waterfall.

“Today you will meet with enemies, fools and those that wish you harm. They will come for you as a snake, a hawk, they will stalk you as the leopard. They are beasts looking to feed. Today you will meet with enemies, fools and those that wish you harm. You are not a rat, a sparrow or a helpless deer. You are not prey. Do not behave as prey.” Stilicho whispered his mantra a half dozen times as the sun rose over the Moorish province of Calor. A deep inhale brought the savory scent of a distant fire.

Stilicho rose, retrieved four eggs from the ducks' nest and set about making his breakfast in the same manner as he had done every morning since arriving in Calor. He followed his meal with some training with the sword and bow, then another quiet sit by the waterfall.

Stilicho dressed, then examined himself in his mirror. He adjusted the left strap of his steel chest piece, engraved with the image of an eagle, to the second loop, then the right. He slung his orange cloak over his left shoulder and clasped with the pin indicating his station over his right. He stood for a time, not admiring but judging each detail as he knew the outside world would. With everything in its place he emerged from his estate to face the demands of a general and primary aid to the Consul of Calor.

A routine was a common practice for men in the southern province, but none adhered quite as strictly to theirs as Stilicho. Even in the disciplined culture of Calor, Stilicho was said to border superstitiousness with his personal process. No one had glimpsed even the slightest detail, however, but rumors swirled. Some Stilicho knew, believed he worshiped the Old Gods each morning, but this was the talk of snakes. Stilicho had no time for snakes.

Stilicho had been sent to Calor as a general, but he quickly earned his position as primary advisor to the Consul by defeating a force of rebel Moors who threatened Novissime rule. He followed the swift military victory by promptly executing the corrupt Consul the Moors had been rebelling against. The Consul was funneling the empire's tax revenues to fund a lavish life while his people starved. Rather than seize the Consulship himself, as many expected, Stilicho left the decision to the Novissime senate. He declined their nomination.

He entered the Consul’s Hall where he expected to hear a continuation of the same issues the province had faced for as long as he could remember. The Consul was not seated upon his throne as expected.

“Here he is now!” The Consul, Theodosius, turned from a haggard, poorly dressed man to Stilicho. Four guardsmen half encircled them. “General, come, we’ve developments in the north!”

Stilicho examined the stranger as he prowled closer. There was something familiar about the man, but Stilicho could not place it.

“Tell him, Sorum.” Theodosius ordered.

Sorum, yes the cavalryman sent to amuse the citizens of Oram. Hardly the pompous boy he was when he left. Quite a fall for such a short time. Stilicho placed a sympathetic hand on the boy’s shoulder and felt his bones.

He stiffened his gaunt body to attention. “Emperor Aiden Severus accused a rider in our race of being an assassin. He had us all chained and beaten. They say the traitor was from the north, sir. From Vencia. I was told their Consul attacked the legion and drove them off the island. I don't think it is true, but it doesn't matter now. Pretty sure they killed the Vencian.” Sorum had held his upright pose for too long during his speech and slouched again, out of breath.

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Stilicho knew of the fiasco at the festival, but paid it so little mind that he hadn’t even thought of the boy they had sent. The north held memories he did not care to uncover and there were so many more important things to manage. “There will be war then? Vencia has always been an untamed land. Frightening stories seem to rise from that cursed island.”

“Correct, General.” Theodosius said. “Travelers tell of strange disappearances recently. Some say the Druids are dealing with the Old Gods again.”

“Vencia is not the development, however." Soren said. "Sirs, Lady Livia calls for General Stilicho’s aid. The entirety of the Urzoth barbarians have crossed the Dain. They have sacked Fort Anius and have been seen riding for Adrianople. I was instructed to tell you the savages intend to cross the Philip Sea.”

“They are tree people. They will do nothing to Adrianople's great walls. Why does the lady request me?”

Theodosius cut in. "The Emperor is planning to attack them himself. He has chosen to ride with his Placian Guardsmen and meet them in battle. She requests that you-"

“Yes, that does sound like the Lady. And the Emperor.” Stilicho let the silence hang. His eyes met Theodosius's. He looked to Sorum.

“Stilicho." Theodosius moved a foot to the General. The toe of his boot clicked on the polished, cream colored marble floor. Stilicho eyed the step, then returned to the Consul's face. "The Lady asks for Calor’s Legion. The rebel Moors are not fully destroyed. I worry they will grow emboldened if our forces were cut to a fraction so suddenly.” Theodosius turned to the four guardsmen. “Please, take Sorum to get some food and medical care. Allow the general and I a private word.”

Alone in the Hall, Theodosius and Stilicho began to pace. “I trust you, Stilicho. So I’ll propose to you a- well, a possibility. One that I wouldn’t discuss with others. The empire calls for us now, which puts us at risk of plunging Calor back into the chaos. You know? Chaos that you and I have so recently lifted this province above. But this light, our light is young. It is weak. All that we have worked for could be snuffed out with the departure of the legion.”

Stilicho stopped walking. “Indeed, there are threats of all sorts, both near and far.”

“Yes, and with the way they have treated Sorum? After demanding we send our best? Imagine it had been you!" Theodosius began to circle Stilicho. "To send him back a husk of himself while carrying a demand such as this. And with a chest of silver? Silver! Like a payment for our trouble. Not even gold! It is enough to push a man too far.” The Consul faced the General. “Vencia has driven off the legion. They have a good chance of remaining independent. This Urzoth menace is cutting through their center. If the Novissime wish to fight a battle on both fronts, what are the chances they grow stronger from this? We are men of war, General. We know what it costs. What it truly costs.”

“Come out and say it then.” Stilicho said plainly.

“We must choose our objective. Is it to have a prosperous Calor or to be a servant of the Novissime? We must choose and we must take action toward the objective.” Theodosius was not a small man. He is not prey, Stilicho thought. He lifted the tail of Theodosius’s purple cloak then gestured to his own orange one.

“Have we not made our choice, Consul? Have we not chosen the Novissime? Haven't we served them well and been rewarded with our current station? Now, as the wind blows in a new direction, should we be carried by it? Until when? When do we stop being carried by circumstance and begin acting as men? The choice has been made, Consul, but at your request, I will only take a fraction of the men stationed here and get aid from the legion at Adrianople. I will let the Emperor know the decision was made for speed of travel.” Stilicho left Theodosius standing silent in the Hall.

His daily meeting with the Consul concluded, Stilicho went about checking on his men as he did each day.

Stilicho Clara was a man of routine.